Chapter 49:
“Freya is still my wife,” Kristian declared, his voice icy, his face a mask of impassivity. “Are you just going to sit here and watch her struggle on her own?”
With a flash of insight, Gerard caught on to Kristian’s intentions. A subtle smile crept across his face as he responded, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she and all her possessions are safely escorted back to her place.”
“Hurry up!” Kristian pressed, a sense of urgency lacing his tone. Gerard didn’t hesitate. He bolted from the car and raced toward Freya, determined to fulfill his task.
Meanwhile, he couldn’t fathom why Kristian couldn’t just obtain Freya’s apartment number himself, instead of concocting such a clumsy excuse to send him in his stead.
It took ten minutes before Gerard made his way back.
He promptly relayed Freya’s floor and apartment number to Kristian. Kristian’s expression remained unreadable, his face set in stone as he directed Gerard to drive to the office and begin preparing the necessary documents for the business trip.
Freya was fully aware that Gerard had been sent to tail her all the way to her apartment on Kristian’s command. She understood Kristian’s underlying fear: he was worried she might flee and avoid finalizing their divorce, which would tie his hands from being open about his relationship with Ashley.
She avoided confronting him, channeling her energy into meticulously organizing her belongings.
An hour whisked by, and with everything neatly arranged, she was on the verge of ordering lunch when a sudden phone call interrupted her. It was from her father. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dismissed the call.
Yet, almost immediately, the phone rang again.
𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 gⱯ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀・ⅽ𝗼𝗺
Normally, one hang-up was enough; it was an unspoken boundary in their strained relationship, a silent acknowledgment of mutual distaste. The phone trembled persistently on the table, its vibrations echoing in the quiet room.
Freya watched, her emotions tangled as she debated picking up. With a resigned sigh, she finally answered, her voice dripping with disinterest, “What is it now?”
“Sheila had an accident,” Hugh’s strained reply came, his voice raw with emotion.
Those words sent a shockwave through Freya’s core, scattering her thoughts like leaves in the wind.
She couldn’t recall hanging up or how she left the apartment. The next thing she knew, she was in the back of a taxi, the cityscape blurring past as they sped toward the airport.
Her heart pounded as Hugh’s words replayed in her mind—Sheila’s arm was fractured, her head was bleeding, and she was unconscious at the hospital.
Sheila Briggs wasn’t just her younger sister, she was her anchor, the one constant in her life after their mother’s passing.
“Please, make it fast; it’s urgent,” Freya pleaded to the taxi driver, her voice quivering with urgency as her mind raced with worry for Sheila.
When Freya arrived at the airport, the clock had already struck half past twelve.
The next flight from Jeucwell to Alerith departed at two in the afternoon. Leaping from the car, she dashed to the counter, desperately inquiring about potential cancellations.
All online tickets had vanished, leaving her only the hope of a last-minute opening.
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